


Run Run Runaway

by dreamiflame



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Betrayal, Dark, Gen, Handmaidens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-02 06:02:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21156785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamiflame/pseuds/dreamiflame
Summary: Padmé hasn’t spoken to Anakin for three months, the longest silence of their marriage, when she wakes up in the morning and feels… different.





	Run Run Runaway

**Author's Note:**

  * For [K_Popsicle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/K_Popsicle/gifts).

> I hope this is the type of story you hoped for, K_Popsicle! I've had this theory about their relationship for a while, thanks for letting me explore it.
> 
> Thanks for the fast beta, friend!

Padmé hasn’t spoken to Anakin for three months, the longest silence of their marriage, when she wakes up in the morning and feels… different.

And angry. Incredibly angry.

“Dormé!” she calls, and Dormé flies into her bedroom, a silver blaster in her hands, and her hair going every different direction. “Get me Sabé.”

“Are you all right, my lady?” Dormé asks, her eyes flicking around the room.

Padmé leaps out of bed and grabs for her robe, so mad she can barely speak. “Get. Me. Sabé.”

“Yes, my lady,” Dormé says, dropping a curtsy before she spins on her heel and hurries off.

Sabé finds Padmé in the refresher, staring at her reflection in the mirror. She looks tired, and concerned.

She meets Padmé’s eyes in the mirror and bows. “You summoned me, my lady?”

“What the hell has been going on?” Padmé wants to say she keeps her voice down, but she’s too honest for that. “Why am I MARRIED to ANAKIN? WHY AM I PREGNANT?”

Sabé blinks twice, opens her mouth, shuts it, and blinks again. “What?”

Padmé whirls on her. “I woke up this morning, and it was like I’d been stuffed in a box for two and a half years! I remember most of what happened, but I don’t understand why!”

Sabé blinks again, and then her brows draw together, and her eyes glitter in the way that Padmé knows means she’s close to murdering someone. “You mean you haven’t been yourself?”

“Of course not!” Padmé says. “Why would I have married ANAKIN, of all people?” She pokes a finger into her decoy’s chest. “Why did you let me marry him?”

“How was I supposed to stop you?!” Sabe shouts back. “You were you! I swear it! You went away to Naboo, and when you got back, you kept talking about how in love with Anakin you were and how happy you are!” She pauses a moment.

“It was sickening, really. Especially after how much we’d talked about you finding him off-putting and creepy.” 

Padmé feels sick to her stomach, but she’s pretty sure it isn’t morning sickness. “Does he know about the baby?”

Sabé takes her hand, always so responsive to her moods. “No. No one but we handmaidens know, and Captain Tycho. You wanted to keep it a secret as long as possible, and you wanted to tell him first.”

She can’t help shuddering all over. “Why? Why would I ever think that?”

Sabé guides her over to the sofa, and glances over her shoulder at Dormé, who turns without a word being spoken and starts to make tea. Padmé sits when Sabé presses her down, and they huddle together on the sofa, hands entangled and Sabé making soft comforting sounds.

“I think,” she says, after a long moment, “it might be a kind of Force thing. Anakin’s some sort of very strong Jedi, right?”

“I suppose,” Padmé says, and frees one hand to take the cup of tea Dormé offers. Dormé sits on her other side, pressing their shoulders together, and Padmé starts to feel safer, surrounded by her handmaidens.

Sabé pours herself a cup of tea, adds sweetener, and blows on it. It’s as familiar as her voice, and Padmé feels herself relaxing, accepting that she is truly herself again, and this is still her life. Her world.

“So, Anakin is a very strong Jedi. But he has no emotional control to speak of-”

Dormé snorts. “Understatement,” she says into her cup.

Sabé continues like Dormé hadn’t said anything. “No emotional control, and a massive crush on you. Maybe some part of him reached out through the Force to make your feelings match his? And he’s finally been gone long enough it’s worn off?”

“That’s horrifying,” Dormé says, and Padmé nods, slowly.

It fits. And it _is_ horrifying.

“Now what?” she asks. “I can’t do that again, Sabé, I can’t. Being secretly married to a Jedi for all this time? Who do we think we’re fooling?” She regards her handmaidens, one to each side of her. “And why, by all the saints, have you been HELPING?”

“What else were we supposed to do?” Sabé asks. “You weren’t listening to what a stupid idea it was, and he never really listens to us at all. So we were doing our best to keep you alive.” She glares over the rim of her teacup. “You know, our JOBS?”

Padmé makes a face at Sabé, and Dormé giggles. Padmé takes a deep breath, letting her anger flow out with it. It’s not their faults. It’s not really her fault either.

“Now what?” she says again.

Sabé sips her tea. “I have my ship. All you need to do it resign, and we can be gone tonight.”

Dormé frowns at Sabé. “You know it’s going to take me longer than that to pack her wardrobe.”

“If we’re not acting like a queen or a senator, do we need her wardrobe?” Sabé counters, and Dormé frowns but doesn’t say anything.

“Your choice, Padmé,” Sabé says. “We’re with you whatever you decide. But I did hear a rumor Anakin may be on his way back, with his mission complete.”

Padmé feels a chill creep down her back. “I’ll write my resignation. Dormé, pack what you can, and get whomever you trust to pack the rest.” She swallows the rest of her tea, even though it’s really still too hot for that, and stands, crossing to her desk before she changes her mind.

She feels a little bad that she’ll be letting down her queen, and her people, but she can’t face Anakin again, not until she has a way to keep him from affecting her so strongly.

Behind her, she can hear Sabé and Dormé moving. They are so much more organized than she could ever be on her own, Padmé reflects. She writes her resignation swiftly, the words coming so easily she realizes she has been half planning this for a very long time.

In all the chaos caused by the rest of her realizations, Padmé had missed this one.

She hesitates a moment, then sets a delay on her message to the Senate and to Chancellor Palpatine. With her mind clear, something is bothering her about her last few meetings with her former mentor.

Something is very wrong in the Republic, more than just the Clone Wars. Chancellor Palpatine has so much power now, and no real inclination to give it up.

Padmé moves away from her desk and goes to dress. Sabé puts her in a battledress, then covers her in a handmaiden robe. “Let’s not draw attention to ourselves, hm?” she says, and Padmé agrees.

“Where should we go? Naboo is the first place someone will look for me.”

Dormé gives them a worried glance as she hurries by, her arms full of Padmé’s wardrobe. Sabé doesn’t pause in her application of Padmé’s makeup, but her eyes go far away.

“Alderaan?” she suggests after a long moment. “It’s a risk, you and Bail are known to be friendly, but Alderaan is also one of the most refugee friendly planets I can think of. And we won’t stand out there, not like we might on some other planets.”

“If we want to hide, there’s always Tatooine,” Dormé calls from the next room.

Sabé makes a rude gesture in her general direction, and though Dormé has no way of seeing it, she laughs, and Padmé feels the corners of her mouth tip up.

Sabé really hated Tatooine.

“I think Alderaan is a good choice, at least for the moment,” she says, and Sabé smoothes the makeup onto her cheeks, blurring the lines of her face until the two of them are twins once more.

Dormé manages to compress everything she thinks they must have into two trunks, and they call an airspeeder to take them to the port. Sabé’s ship has Senate clearance, which means she can leave at a moments’ notice, and in less than twelve hours, the three of them are on their way to Alderaan.

Captain Tycho protests them going alone, but Sabé convinces him in the end, pointing out her long history of keeping Padmé alive. He goes to Naboo, to give another more personal resignation to the Queen, so she understands.

Padmé rests her hands on the tiny bump of her stomach and looks out the viewscreen. Dormé squeezes her shoulder and sits in the seat behind her. It’s a quiet trip, Dormé humming softly until she dozes off, Sabé flying, and Padmé trying not to fret.

How much of a mess of her life has she made? And will hiding from a Jedi really work?

They land on Alderaan, and despite not sending any word ahead, are met by one of the Queen’s ladies. Padmé gives Sabé a stern look. Sabé shrugs.

“I may have left Bail a coded message,” she says. Dormé smothers a laugh.

They’re smuggled into the palace, and Breha meets them only half an hour later. Padmé is impressed by how well her staff have rearranged her day.

“Bail says you might need help,” Breha says, and Padmé nods. “Well, my palace is yours, and I recently had a few openings in my staff appear. I don’t suppose you need a job?”

“Nothing too strenuous,” Sabé puts in. “Padmé is with child.”

A shadow passes over Breha’s face: envy, Padmé identifies, and wistfulness, and joy. Then she remembers who the father must be, and her brow clouds. “Yes, of course. My ladies dress as I do,” she says, gesturing to her full skirts.

Dormé scrutinizes her dress, then nods. “We ought to be able to hide the baby in that until nearly your time, my- Padmé,” she stumbles, and blushes. She’s having a hard time adjusting.

Sabé has always been somewhat disrespectful when they were alone, and isn’t having a problem at all.

Breha hands them over to her aide and they get quarters to share and new outfits, and the first food of the day. Padmé feels all the stress and strain of the day afterward, but it’s still a few hours until nightfall. Sabé insists they take a tour of the palace, learning the best ways to avoid being seen by most of the public, and the private ways in and out.

By the time Padmé falls into bed, she feels more settled in herself. The morning was a thousand years ago, and everything has changed since then, but at least everything is better now. She falls into an exhausted sleep and dreams of teaching her children to dance the way she learned to on Naboo.

The first few weeks are quiet, the news of the battle over Coruscant trickling into Alderaan. Dooku dies, then Grievous is defeated, then ominously, Coruscant goes silent. Not a word, not a syllable.

They’re all crammed into Breha’s office when the news comes. The war is over, the Jedi have been declared traitors, and Vice Chancellor Palpatine has been disfigured from his fight with one of them, and has declared the Republic gone. Padmé finds herself on the ground without knowing how she got there. Sabé is beside her, holding her arm. Dormé stands over them both as though to shield them, though there are no enemies here.

Breha looks as anguished as Padmé feels. They stay close to her for the next few days, poring over each news bulletin out of Coruscant, trying to decipher what is really going on.

Bail brings them the truth, and Obi-Wan, a week later.

Padmé brings them ale and lingers behind them. She, Sabé and Dormé have all been summoned to Breha’s office on one pretext or another.

Obi-Wan takes a long draught of his cup, then sets it down with a thump. He knocks his chair into Bail’s when he stands, and then he’s at her side, pushing back her hood. “Padmé?” he says, and the relief in his face is startling. “Thank the Force,” he says, and engulfs her in a hug.

Bail stands, too, and pulls Obi-Wan gently away. “You’re more observant than I expected,” he says, and a brief smile crosses Obi-Wan’s tired face. He looks like it might have been the first time he has smiled in a long time. “Sit, my friend, and let’s tell them what happened.”

Obi-Wan thumps back down into his chair, looking much older than his years, and Padmé goes to him, takes his hand in hers. They’ve been friends for a while, now, and even with her new wariness of Jedi, she can’t mistrust Obi-Wan.

“Anakin went mad,” he says, slowly, each word costing him something in the saying of it. “We got back from fighting Dooku, and he just-” Obi-Wan shakes his head. “Went mad. He was convinced you’d been stolen somehow, or killed by the Council, or- well, I don’t actually know. He wasn’t making much sense the last time I saw him.”

Bail takes over then. “The Council sent Obi-Wan after Grievous, and then suddenly there was smoke at the Jedi Temple. Clone troopers everywhere, and everything just fell apart.”

Sabé is at Padmé’s back when she feels her knees start to give out again. Her decoy holds her up, soft murmurs in her ear soothing. Obi-Wan squeezes her fingers.

Padmé takes a deep breath. It’s not her fault. It’s not. Anakin was unstable before she left, and she shouldn’t have had to trade her sense of self for his control.

Dormé comes to hold her up, too, but Padmé can take it now. “Then what?”

“Anakin fell,” Obi-Wan says, voice flat. “We knew there had to be a Sith Master, else who was Dooku’s master, or Maul’s? But we didn’t find him, and he seduced Anakin to the dark side.”

He goes quiet. They all watch him.

Bail stirs himself, finally, when it becomes clear Obi-Wan has said as much as he can. Or will. “We’re pretty sure Anakin slaughtered all the Jedi left in the Temple. Even the younglings.”

A memory stirs, and Padmé feels sick. “He’s done it before,” she says. Obi-Wan looks at her bleakly. “On Tatooine, when we went to find his mother. He killed a whole tribe of Sand People then.”

He closes his eyes and bows his head. “All this time he was my apprentice, and I never saw it. I’ve been blind.”

There’s nothing any of them can say to that. Obi-Wan drains his mug and stands. He hesitates a moment, but when he goes to hug her again, Padmé moves into his arms. “I am so glad you’re safe,” he says. “May I?”

Padmé nods, and Obi-Wan rests his hand over her stomach for a moment. “Anakin’s?”

“Yes.” She wets her lips. “We- we were married in secret years ago. I only came back to myself the day I left.”

Dormé pipes up beside them. “He used the Force on her, somehow, made her like him back.”

Obi-Wan absorbs these new blows with barely a flinch, but the lines deepen around his mouth. “I see,” he says, and bows to them all, taking his leave.

Bail moves to stand behind Breha, his hand on her shoulder. “He’s not doing well.”

Sabé gives him a wry look. “His world just ended. Of course he’s not.”

“The Republic just ended,” he replies. Breha covers his hand with hers. “Palpatine has declared himself Emperor. There’s no stopping him now.”

Something stirs in Padmé, the same determination that made her defy everyone and everything to get her planet back from the Trade Federation. “Not legally, maybe, but we don’t have to give in. We can still rebel.”

Bail looks at her. “We can?”

“We can.” Padmé feels excitement start to rise within her. “We aren’t alone in worrying over how much power he has. Other systems have to be concerned over what this means, taking control of the army and destroying the Jedi. All we have to do is find some way to gather them.”

Breha gives her a sharp look. “You’re speaking of treason.”

“Yes,” Padmé says, and smiles for the first time in a week. “I am.”


End file.
